


A Cat May Look At A Rebel

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Post Gauda Prime, Present Tense, Skin Hunger, Werecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Gauda Prime, Avon is nominally accepted by Blake's rebels, (Blake had a force shield and the blood was faked) but in reality ostracized. Even his own crew avoid him.</p><p>That creates a problem for Avon who is normally as independent as a cat-- but cats aren't really independent.</p><p>Blake isn't all that independent either, although he can't show weakness before his people. But what harm in showing a more fragile, human, side to a stray cat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cat May Look At A Rebel

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was an RPG played by me and Blakefancier. She gave me carte blanche to adapt any of our games for posting here, but would prefer I not use the official co-author link because she would rather not have these old fandom fics covering up her present fandom.
> 
> I rewrote it from stem to stern & think it turned out well. I hope you enjoy it. (Note: The nookie is very, very little.)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon has always been a very perversely tactile creature. He needs touch, but on his own terms. Back in the domes that wasn't difficult. Even when he hadn't the money to hire a whore or even a masseur, he could always get onto the public trans and count on someone pressing against him in the crowd. Touch, without ties. He always said he didn't need anyone, but he was lying to himself. He didn't want to have needs, to have to rely on other people to fulfill them. He wanted to be entirely self-sufficient, an empire unto himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't, as the present circumstances had made inescapably clear.

On _Liberator_ he could seldom get anyone to touch him, but at least he could touch them. A mocking pat, a disdainful shove; it wasn't much, but enough to keep the cravings dormant. On _Scorpio_ , it was harder still, but he managed. He could push Tarrant, or pat Vila. Not often enough. But still he hung onto the ragged ends of his self-control.

But now it's... impossible. Blake's people all know what he did. Blake's force shield had saved his life, and Blake had magnanimously said 'these things happen, let it go'. But no one would touch him, or let him touch them, not so much as a grazing of fingertips when he passed a tool to Deva.

He has to get out of his skin. He can't stand it any longer. He hurries to the small room that's been assigned him and does what he has to do.

 

Blake is exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. He's heartsick and there are days when all he wants to do is huddle under the blankets and stay there. But he doesn't. He can't. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He should probably turn off the door sensor and head off to bed; it wouldn't do to have someone walk in when he's trying to sleep. He has a hard enough time drifting off as it is.

 

Avon stretches and admires himself in the small mirror his vanity insisted on liberating from a closet and placing against his door. It's been so long since he's done this, he's forgot how good it feels to stop trying to be like everyone else.

He strolls out of his room, enjoying the feel of his muscles moving, of knowing his body will not be clumsy. He never trips over his own feet like this. Now, all he needs is someone to seduce, someone to give the touches he craves... why not Blake? Blake will never recognize him. Still... best to bring a sweetener, to introduce himself, to show how useful he can be. He doesn't think Blake is likely to be hostile, but gifts always work.

He lucks out in the storeroom, finding an admirable gift indeed. It's so heavy he's out of breath by the time he reaches Blake's door, and scratches at it.

 

Blake hears the sound of someone scratching at the door. He frowns because the hour is late and he is tired of putting on a good front. But it might be important. "Come in!"

Avon scratches harder. He can't reach the door sensor so it won't open for him. _Stupid design. Not everyone is tall._

Blake sighs and gets up. He opens the door. There's no one there. "What--!" There's a soft noise near his feet. He looks down at an entirely unexpected visitor and smiles. "Well, hello." 

Dropping his present at Blake's feet, Avon looks up with an inquiring sound, making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible. He learned that from his mother. He never knew who his father was. He doubts she knew. 'Bastard', to his kind, is the default setting, not an insult.

"Oh, um, thank you. I'll just..." Blake leans down and gingerly picks up the dead rodent by its tail. "Where did you come from?"

If he waits for an invitation, he'll be on the doorsill all night, so Avon walks into the room. He hops onto Blake's bed, and curls around, pushing the linens into a pleasing configuration that cups his body.

The cat is obviously someone's pet. Or was. Either someone smuggled it into the base, or it found its way here on its own. Blake feels absurdly flattered that it came to him. He tosses the cat's present in the waste bin and washes his hands before going over to the bed which looks more inviting on seeing the cat's enjoyment of it. "Just making yourself comfortable, aren't you?"

Avon rolls onto his back and purrs, spreading his legs wide to expose his belly. _Come on, Blake, it feels good, you know you want to touch me._

"You are a shameless little thing!" Blake laughs at the invitation and scratches its-- _his_ belly.

 _This is good. He has Blake right where he wants him._ Avon grins at Blake, and wriggles, playfully catching Blake's hand, with his claws carefully retracted.

Blake scritches the cat's between his ears. He's soft, soft and warm and gentle, like so few things in Blake's life. "What a beautiful boy you are." 

Avon half-closes his eyes and purrs louder. _Perfect. Yes, admire me, Blake._

Blake croons softly, stroking and scratching and petting the cat. The simple action relaxes him, for reasons he can't be bothered to examine. The cat is here, and demanding Blake's attention and company, not because he's the leader, or the mythic hero, or for any more complicated reason than that Blake has hands to pet him and the cat is in a mood to be petted. It's real, and it's simple, and it's pure.

Avon stretches and curls around so he can reach Blake and lick his arm. _Mmmm... Blake tastes good, salty and sweet._

Letting himself take the moment, Blake lies down to play with the cat. "Whose cat are you? Hmm?" 

Avon likes the sound of Blake's voice like this, soft and gentle. He continues purring and washing Blake. He knows how good the scratching of his rough tongue feels. 

"It seems rude that we haven't been introduced, considering we're sharing a bed. Shall I give you a name? What's a good cat name? Blackie?"

Avon nips gently at Blake's hand. _Blackie, indeed! How plebeian. And besides, I'm not black._

"All right, all right. What about... Cornelius?"

 _Shortened to 'Corny'. No thank you._ Avon yawns. Perhaps he should have made himself a collar, with a dignified name-tag on it. Ah, well, too late now. 

"Coffee?" Blake strokes him. 

There are worse brown things than coffee. Avon purrs in acceptance.

"Coffee it is, then." Blake looks at him contemplatively. "Would you like some cream, Coffee?"

 _Yes, indeed!_ Avon sits up and mews. He's been taking his coffee black for weeks. The rebels must be hiding all the luxury items when they see him approach. 

Blake goes to the cooling unit he keeps under his desk and pulls out the cream. He pours a generous amount on a plate and sets it on the desk. Avon leaps onto the desk and begins lapping up the cream, purring as loud as he can to show his appreciation. _Blake is very trainable, this is good, very good indeed._ He finishes the milk in short order and returns to the bed, curling up near the pillow and yawning before he washes his whiskers. A little nap will finish settling his nerves. 

"That looks like a good idea." Blake gets into bed carefully, to avoid disturbing the cat. He runs his hands through Coffee's fur. "I'm so tired, Coffee," he says softly. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm running on empty fuel cells."

 _Go to sleep, Blake. I can stay a little while longer._ Avon sympathizes, he knows that never-ending weariness all too well. He rubs his cheek against Blake's neck and purrs softly.

"Sometimes it hurts," Blake whispers. Avon rubs Blake again, and gives him a gentle lick. "I feel as if I have no one to trust." Blake gives a rueful smile. "Except for you. You'll keep my secrets, won't you?"

Oh, he hadn't counted on this. Avon purrs. If he had a particle of shame he'd be embarrassed. Fortunately, he hasn't. Shame is for lesser creatures. He curls closer, so he can feel Blake's warmth all along his side. Delicious. A nap is definitely the thing. Blake turns his face to breathe into Avon's fur and lets out a sigh before his breathing slows into the cadence of sleep. Avon dozes for a while, soaking up the sensation of being cuddled and warm and safe. He can't stay the night, but he can wait until Blake is deeply asleep. It's little enough to give the man in return for the warmth and the cream. The cream was very good.

After Blake begins to snore Avon decides he's been generous enough with his time. He leaps lightly from the bed and pads to the door, and is annoyed all over again when it doesn't notice him. Mmm... he'll need something to actuate the door sensor. Or someone. Reluctantly, Avon meows and gives the door a scratch. He really doesn't like being dependent on people.

"Coffee?" Blake wakes and sits up, running a hand through his hair and yawning. "Do you need to go out?" The cat is well-behaved, but he had drunk quite a lot of cream.

 _Why else am I standing by the door?_ Avon mews imperatively.

Blake stumbles to his feet. "All right. I hope you'll visit me tomorrow." Silly to talk to an animal as if it understands, but perhaps tone of voice will get through. He likes the cat, but knows better than to force a free spirit to stay with him. Look how badly that had worked with Avon.

Avon rubs against Blake's ankles. _Why not? It had been pleasant. And probably no one else has cream._ He grants Blake a brief purr before scratching the door again.

"I like you too," Blake says ruefully. It's a sad state of affairs when the company of a stray cat is so important. He opens the door and watches the cat dart off, with purpose in its unhesitating course. It's probably two-timing someone who's been hiding the cat for fear of objections to its presence. Blake will have to find some tuna if he hopes to compete for its affections. He heads back to bed, shaking his head at his own thoughts. Blake falls asleep. His dreams are filled with shadows.

The door to Avon's quarters is still wedged ajar, as he'd left it. It's not as if he owns anything worth stealing. He enters, changes back and shuts his door. Avon brushes his teeth to remove the lingering traces of cream and goes to bed. "Mmm...yes, definitely we have a date tomorrow, Blake." It would have been pleasant to stay with Blake for a few days' holiday in cat form. Pity it simply isn't feasible. The computers would miss him. Avon curls up tightly on his cold, narrow bed, missing Blake's warmth, and falls asleep.

 

Blake wakes gradually the next morning; his eyes feel gritty. His whole life is gritty. He allows himself a moment of self-pity before he showers and gets dressed, then he goes looking for Avon. While he hasn't quite forgiven Avon for shooting him, he shares a portion of the blame for that whole monumental cock-up. Not that big a portion, but still it wasn't as if Avon had been in his right mind at the time. If he ever was. Avon is... well, at the moment, Avon is necessary, and unstable. Blake half expects him to vanish overnight.

Usually Blake finds Avon in the computer room, or one of the maintenance areas and satisfies himself with a glance from the doorway, but this morning Blake can't find him in his usual haunts, and Deva hasn't seen him, so he tries Avon's room. He has a moment to miss _Liberator's_ comm system and that reminds him that he'd deliberately stayed away from the ship, keeping his promise to give it to Avon. And Avon got it destroyed. He pounds on the door, venting a sudden burst of anger.

"Mmm... what? Come in. Or go away." Avon has been rudely awakened from a formlessly pleasant dream by the thudding of fists, or possibly feet, against his door. He still has shreds of cat-don't-care and he can't be bothered to be annoyed.

Blake enters the room. "What are you doing in bed?"

"It's called sleep." Avon sits up and yawns. "I'd heard about it, and thought I'd try it."

"We need those computers fixed, Avon."

"Yes, I know. I'll be there in five minutes. I need to shower and dress."

"Just hurry."

Avon gets out of bed. He sleeps nude, not so much out of choice as out of a lack of sleep-wear. "Yes." He yawns again. "Five minutes." Idly he scratches his stomach and stretches.

"Don't push me." Blake turns and stalks out. He's seen Avon naked before, of course he has. The _London_ was hardly a resort ship and while _Liberator_ had more privacy, there'd also been more emergencies. Blake has kept his libido under control, but it still exists, and seeing what he shouldn't even dream of wanting annoys him.

"What's that all about?" Avon huffs but he hurries, after all the computers need him. He's still damp and his hair is fluffed when he arrives at the computer centre.

"It's about time," Blake remarks, from the corner where he's discussing options with Deva.

"I haven't had my coffee yet, what's your excuse?" Avon gives Blake an irritated look, and starts working on the computer.

Blake stiffens with anger. "Some of us know we have a job to do."

All his remaining sympathy for Blake dries up. Avon lays down his laser probe, controlling himself not to throw it across the room. "I do my job, but that's not enough, is it?"

"Oh, now you're going to complain."

No matter what he says, Blake will put him in the wrong. To hell with trying to appease. "No. Now I'm going to go have my breakfast and then I'll return to work." And if Blake doesn't like it, well, that's too bad. 

Blake suddenly feels so angry he could smash Avon's smug sneer right off his face. His hands curl into fists. No, he's not going to let Avon goad him. He abruptly turns and walks out.

Deva sighs. "Did you have to do that?"

"Yes, I rather think I did." Avon shows Deva his teeth. "I won't be long." He heads for the refectory where he has some dry biscuits and black coffee. He's tempted to go to Blake's room and demand some cream. Instead he gulps his miserable breakfast and returns to work.

 

There's far too much anger in Blake right now. He won't risk taking his temper out on anyone, so he only leaves his room to get something to eat, and to steal a can of tuna. There's just enough optimist in him for that. If the cat doesn't come back, well, he can return the food.

 

Avon finishes around lunchtime. He's sure they'll find some lovely cardboard for him in the refectory. Why not have cream instead? He goes to his room and literally changes for lunch, then makes his way to Blake's room. No one ever looks down, and he's good at clinging to the shadows, so he gets there unobserved, and scratches at the door.

At the sound of the scratch Blake's mood immediately lightens. He hurries to the door and opens it. He grins down at the cat. "Well, good afternoon. I hope you're hungry."

Avon curls his tail and purrs. _Blake knows how to treat a cat at least._ He scallops around Blake's legs, playfully trying to trip him.

"Be good." Blake laughs. "If I trip, fall, and bash my head in, who will open the can of tuna?"

 _Tuna! I knew there was a reason I liked you, Blake._ Avon dashes ahead and leaps onto the bed, kneading the blankets happily.

Blake opens the can and puts it in a bowl, flaking the white meat with a fork and resolutely not thinking of the rebellion's limited resources. If they can't feed a cat, they're done for anyway. He sets the bowl down on the bed. "Here you go, your majesty."

 _Lunch in bed. How decadent. I approve._ Avon wraps his paws around the bowl and brings it conveniently close. He eats the tuna slowly, eyes half-closed in appreciation. He purrs and waves his tail gently.

Blake rubs the cat between his ears, murmuring soft nonsense about how sweet and pretty Coffee is. Everything about the cat makes him feel good. The tension in his back and neck even eases.

Avon purrs louder. It's a pity he could never get Blake to pet him while he was a man. Blake has good hands.

"Mmm, you're good for me, Coffee. I think I could sleep a good eight hours if you were purring beside me." Blake yawns, and the cat glances up at him briefly before licking a paw and giving its whiskers a few quick wipes. 

_Oh, what the hell._ The computer's repaired, and it's not as if he's expecting company in his miserable little monastic cell. _But first things first._ Avon goes over to the hiding place of the cream and stares fixedly at it.

Blake gives Coffee a puzzled look until he realizes what he wants. He laughs at the cleverness of the cat, remembering the source of the cream. It probably thinks the cooler is a magical cream fountain. "Well, I always did like cream with my coffee." He pours a generous helping in a saucer he liberated from the chef.

Feeling quite smug about getting a decent lunch, Avon purrs even louder as he polishes off the cream. Yes, he'll stay and help Blake sleep. Perhaps that will improve Blake's mood and give Avon less aggravation. Win-win. He hops lightly back up onto the bed and nudges Blake's hand for more petting.

Blake gets comfortable and resumes petting Coffee. He yawns, a jaw-cracking stretch. "I should probably find you a litter box."

Later on Avon will show Blake his party trick with the toilet. That never fails to impress. For now, he yawns too, widely, showing off his white teeth and pink tongue to further tempt Blake to sleep. It's theatrical, but no one's ever called him on it. Cats get away with... ah... well...

"Pretty kitty," Blake whispers as rubs under Coffee's chin. Avon purrs and stretches out his neck, trusting Blake. You're so soft. You're so..." Tears sting Blake's eyes.

 _Oh, now._ Avon pats Blake's cheek gently with his paw. _Crying never helps. You must be really tired._

Blake buries his face in the cat's fur. "Everything is just... Ever since Star one..." He draws a shuddering breath and blinks rapidly. No, he will not give in to maudlin tears, not even in front of a cat. "I don't know how to make it better. He hates me and I'm so angry with him. So furious." Blake cuddles the cat close.

 _This is about me?_ Avon's ears twitch. _Not his precious cause. How strange. Why should Blake care that they were angry with each other? It didn't affect the rebellion. Blake hasn't let it._ Avon stops purring and tries not to feel sorry for Blake. He's accustomed to being alone, and having boots flung at him, but apparently he can still feel sorry for someone who hasn't learned how to accept being alone and miserable. He touches Blake's neck with his nose.

Blake strokes him. "Thank you, Coffee. I really don't have anyone to talk to and you're a good listener."

Avon mews softly and pats at Blake. This is going to seriously inconvenience Avon. How can he stay angry at Blake after this? And he needs to. He needs to protect himself.

Blake kisses the cat's wet nose. "Let's take that nap, shall we?" He settles comfortably next to the cat and closes his eyes.

 _Poor bastard. Let him have a good night's sleep._ Avon rubs against Blake and purrs. There are worse ways to spend a night. Blake is warm. Avon just has to avoid being squashed. He tickles Blake's neck with his whiskers and lets himself doze.

Blake falls into a deep sleep; the cat's purring chases away the nightmares.

Avon wakes up and decides to visit the toilet. Fortunately, Blake left the door open. The toilet is no problem, but doors are a nuisance. After he's done, Avon scratches the flush lever, then returns to bed, curling up in the hollow between Blake's shoulder and neck. He indulges himself by washing Blake's neck.

Blake gasps and cries out as he wakes, flailing.

Tumbled off the bed, Avon lands on the floor with an affronted mew.

It takes Blake a moment to realize where he is. He hears Coffee mew. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Avon's fur twitches and he licks his shoulder with his back turned to Blake. If Avon wanted to sleep on a fairground ride, he would have bought a ticket.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I had a nightmare." Blake lowered his voice. "It was about Gauda Prime."

Avon relents and looks over his shoulder. Blake is being sad again and while Avon doesn't feel guilty, not at all, he doesn't like Blake being sad. This calls for drastic action. He rolls his eyes wildly, fluffs his fur, mews and races around the room at top speed before viciously attacking one of Blake's discarded socks.

"Behold the mighty hunter!" Blake laughs. 

Laughter is far better than tears. Avon brings the sock proudly to Blake, waving his tail.

Blake accepts the sock. "Thank you, mighty hunter. It is a wonderful gift."

Avon leaps onto Blake's chest, and curls up again, purring.

"Thank you, Coffee. I needed that." Blake strokes the cat. 

Avon licks Blake's fingers and purrs louder. He's going to be hoarse the next day. Oh, well. It's not as if anyone talks to him. Blake baby-talks him while rubbing underneath his chin. Avon slits his eyes and stretches his neck out while kneading Blake without claws. It takes some concentration, but it's worth it. He purrs so hard his whole body shakes. It's been years since he allowed himself a really good purr. Blake tells him he's beautiful and soft and that he loves him. Even though he's only saying it because Avon is currently an amusing little animal, it sounds nice. Avon licks Blake's face.

Blake hugs him. "Shall we resume our nap?"

Avon bumps noses with Blake in a 'yes'. He'll teach Blake cat language yet.

"Tomorrow, I'll scrounge up some more tuna," Blake promises. From the way Coffee reacted earlier, he's sure the cat knows that one word. Cats are mercenary, but at the moment, Blake doesn't mind. It's not as if the cat left the moment he was fed. He must like Blake, at least a little.

Avon curls up in Blake's shoulder hollow again and purrs. He has so got Blake wrapped around his little paw. It makes up, at least a little, for the way Blake treats him as a man.

"It would be nice if you could kill some of the mice here on base," Blake says sleepily.

 _Mmm... maybe._ Tuna is more appreciation than he gets for computer work. Avon puts a paw over his eyes and dozes off. He wakes several times, repositions himself, and recoils to sleep again. His own bed is smaller and colder, so why not stay? The fact that he doesn't want to wake Blake and have a repetition of Blake-grumpiness the next day is immaterial. It's simply too much bother to wake Blake. He hears mice a few times, scrabbling after crumbs, and his whiskers twitch. He enjoys hunting. It won't be a hardship to clear out some of the vermin.

Blake sleeps well and deeply, curled around the cat. He wakes refreshed, stretches, and smiles down at Coffee. "Good morning."

Avon rolls over onto his back and yawns. He wants a belly-rub to start the day.

Blake chuckles and rubs Coffee's belly. "It's a pity you can't return the favor."

 _Cats don't have to reciprocate. They just absorb._ Avon thinks smugly.

Blake presses a kiss to his nose. "Are you hungry? Would you like some cream?" 

The man must be absurdly starved for affection. Avon knows he has morning tuna breath. He purrs and waves his paws cutely. His mother always said he'd kept his kittenish ways better than any tom she knew.

"You are adorable." Blake scritches his chin. "Let's get you some cream." He pours the last of his cream in a bowl and sets it down on the desk. "Mm, I need coffee."

Avon stretches and gets up with a soft mew, before leaping onto the desk to claim his cream. 

Blake scratches his head, then strokes Coffee's back. "I'm going to get something to drink. I'll see you later?"

Avon purrs and waves his tail genially, while lapping for all he's worth.

Blake throws on yesterday's clothes and stumbles out of the room in search of coffee. He's not used to waking up relaxed.

Reluctantly, Avon abandons the last few drops and darts out of the room behind Blake. He's got to get back to his own room, change, shower, dress and get to work before Deva tells Blake that Avon skived off most of the previous day. Deva is such a brown-nose, he'll tell Blake anyway, but it will have less impact if he's in the middle of doing something vitally productive. And there's always plenty of that sort of work.

Blake gets a big cup of coffee and some breakfast in the refectory. He smiles at the cooks and idly inquires about the chance of fish or poultry being on the menu in the near future. Coffee might become bored with canned tuna. A good tactician looks to the future.

 

Avon is hard at work within a few minutes. He'll get coffee later. At least he's had something in his stomach.

 

People stop and chat with Blake as he eats. They actually chat. He wonders how forbidding he must usually look, that this is the first time he's made small talk about inconsequential routine with anyone. He talks to Deva all the time, but it's always serious and usually depressing. Today, Blake feels good and he's not impatient when a discussion of no importance to the rebellion at all takes several minutes. These are his people, all of them, and they have the same need as he does, to once in a while relax. Speaking of which, if anyone on the base is as stressed as Blake, it's Avon. He goes to check on Avon, bringing him a cup of coffee- he has been working very hard. It wasn't like him to oversleep; Avon has many faults, but laziness isn't one of them.

Avon looks up in surprise at a mug of coffee, cream-pale and steaming hot, held out between him and the tracking console he's repairing. Blake is holding the coffee. A peace offering? Well, it's coffee, and since Blake got it, it's unlikely to be the motor-oil dregs he usually gets. "Thank you." He takes the mug and has a few warming swallows of coffee that tastes like coffee should taste. Blake even got the right amount of sugar. "I think I should be finished today."

"All right. Maybe after, you should take a few days off to rest. You look tired."

Avon shrugs. "I'd rather keep busy." What is he to do, sit in his cubicle and stare at the walls? His opportunities for social activity are limited, to say the least.

"If you're sure." Blake gives Avon a critical look trying to decide if Avon has suddenly lost weight, or if Blake had simply been too angry at him to notice. "You should eat more."

Apparently, Blake has no idea what the refectory staff do when he's not around. It's good to know for certain that it wasn't on Blake's orders, but Avon's not going begging for help. "I'll take it under advisement." Avon smiles. 

"Do that." Blake smiles back at him.

Avon has an urge to pat Blake's cheek. He resists. "Yes." He looks down at his work, feeling suddenly awkward, remembering how badly Blake felt last night, because of Avon. His fault, really. Which is why he stays. One of the reasons. A small part.

"Well, I should let you get back to work."

Avon looks up, still smiling. It feels odd. "Yes. Thank you." He pauses, and then specifies, "For the coffee."

"Of course." Blake turns to go, then stops. "Maybe we should have dinner tonight."

Avon's smile reaches his eyes. There's no mistaking this for anything but a peace offering. "I'd like that."

"Good, I'll see you at six?"

"Yes. At six." Avon doesn't know why he feels so ridiculously pleased. But he does.

"All right." Blake walks out. He feels really good about reconciling with Avon. He'll have to tell Coffee about it later. He missed having someone he could safely entrust with his feelings. All right, he's not gone soft in the head, Coffee is only a cat, but he's a better listener than the walls. It seems to like the sound of his voice, anyway.

Avon works quickly. He wants enough time to kill a few mice before dinner. He does manage to finish early and changes for a bit of hunting. He's heard suspicious skitterings in the refectory, but he's not going to do them any favors. Then again...people do behave most amusingly when a half-dead mouse is dropped in front of them... _No. Don't be foolish. A clean kill, drop it at Blake's door so he knows 'Coffee' hasn't forgot about him, and then back to change for dinner. That's a good, sensible plan._ He slips into the kitchen to sniff around the cabinets. It's even easier than he expected because Blake is talking to the kitchen staff. He's making rather a fuss about the meal for him and Avon, about how he wants everything to be right. Avon hopes that means there won't be any insects in his portion. Not that he minds eating bugs when he's a cat, but that's different. He silently pushes a cabinet door open and wriggles inside to wait for things to quiet down and resume normal activity. He narrows his eyes to slits and waits for the stupid mice to come out. He smells them all around.

 

Blake appropriates a can of tuna for Coffee when the cooks are scurrying about, rummaging for ingredients. "I'm sure you'll all do a fine job," he says as he leaves with his pilfered goods tucked away via a sleight of hand trick Vila had taught him years ago.

 

Avon lets several small mice go, but finally one large enough that even Blake would notice when it's left on his doorstep skitters close. He smacks a paw down, breaking its neck instantly. Play is fun, but he doesn't want to be late for dinner. He pushes at the cabinet. It doesn't open. He pushes harder. Then he sniffs at the crack. Some IDIOT has shoved a chair against the door and sat on it. He's trapped! He paces back and forth in the dark, cramped space, annoyed. He could make a fuss and someone would let him out, but he really doesn't trust the kitchen staff. They might even think it amusing to stew a cat to feed Avon.

 

After his shower, Blake cleans his room, humming softly. Maybe this is their chance to be friends again. He finishes tidying the room, and then changes. He's grinning. This almost feels like a date.

 

Oh, to hell with it. Avon washes his face and paws thoroughly, curls up and goes to sleep. Sooner or later that fat lout is going to move. Avon hears stirring and whacking noises on the countertop. Lazy bastard, doing prep while sitting.

 

The staff brings their dinner and Blake waits. Six comes and goes. No Avon. And the cat doesn't show up, either. The food gets cold and Blake feels a sharp pang of disappointment. But the staff worked hard, so Blake eats his dinner even though it's tasteless to him, and puts the rest in his little cooling unit. He goes to bed like he does every night. Disappointment isn't anything new, although he really hadn't thought Avon was so petty as to pretend he would come. He tries not to listen for a knock or scratch at the door. He's more sad than angry.

 

Eventually the kitchen goes quiet. Avon pushes at the door again, and this time it moves. Lard butt has left. Avon snatches up his now cold and stiff mouse and darts out of the refectory, speeding for Blake's room.

Avon scratches furiously at Blake's door. Damn, he hates not keeping a promise.

Blake hears the scratches and jumps out of bed. He opens the door. "Well, hello. I thought you'd forgot about me." 

Avon darts in, purring, deposits the rather pathetic mouse at Blake's feet and tries to show how absolutely starving he is. And actually, now that he thinks about it, Blake's cup of coffee was all he'd had all day.

"Why thank you!" Blake gives the mouse a look of disgust. It's a particularly large, and very, very dead, mouse. At least it's intact. "Why don't I put that away, then get you some tuna. I'm glad at least one of my invited guests decided to come by."

 _Tuna is fine._ Avon mews agreeably. Blake is being rather finicky about the mouse, though. He did ask Avon to kill them.

Blake tosses the mouse, washes his hands, then opens the can of tuna. He sits at the desk, where he can pet Coffee. Avon purrs around the tuna and waves his tail gently. Blake strokes his fur. "I invited him for dinner."

Avon stops eating and rubs against Blake's hand, apologetically. _I tried._

Blake takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It doesn't matter. I tried and he... Well, it doesn't matter."

Hell. And just when it seemed they might be on an easier footing. And Avon might get a decent meal once in a while. Avon licks Blake's arm.

"Yes, I still have you." Blake scratches one of his ears. "Finish your tuna, beautiful."

Avon purrs and resumes eating. At least Blake hasn't gone into a Force ten depression.

Coffee's life is so easy. Blake is irrationally jealous as he watches the cat. It doesn't have the world on its shoulders, or perverse computer geniuses to deal with.

Avon finishes the tuna and begins washing, starting with his whiskers and working his way around to his back and shoulders, being as athletic about it as possible. Give Blake something to take his mind off things. Blake holds out his hand to Coffee. Avon sniffs Blake's fingers and then licks them. Blake really does taste good.

"Who's my pretty boy?" Blake smiles and begins to rub Coffee's belly.

Avon purrs and rolls over onto his back for easier access. Blake has talented hands. Avon can think of other uses for them. If he wasn't being a cat.

"Yes, you are so sweet, so beautiful. You make me so happy."

It would be nice if Blake would say those things to him as a human. Avon rumbles loudly, purring like a star-drive. 

"Oh, yes, sweetheart. You're my good boy! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

Avon catches Blake's hand playfully and pretends to bite. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Blake is joking. He thinks Coffee is adorable. Avon mock-growls and makes his eyes huge and fierce. "Oh no, please be careful, great hunter!" Blake wriggles his hand. Avon falls off the desk. It's too short a distance for him to flip over and land on his feet, so he thumps down heavily on his side.

"Oh! Coffee, are you all right!"

Avon is dizzy, confused. He looks up at Blake and tries to get up, but he feels... oh... no. He closes his eyes and tries to control himself. He hasn't lost control since he was a boy. _Not now. Not here! Damn it._

"Coffee? What's wrong?" Blake kneels next to him and strokes him gently.

It's no use. Instinct has taken over, interpreting the minor accident as a threat requiring his larger, stronger, form. If only he'd been prepared and braced against it! He'd got through Federation torture without giving himself away, and now a simple fall has triggered him. Avon groans and stretches, reluctantly giving in to the inevitable. Now he really will have to leave. No one wants a shape-shifter around. Rabid wolves and bats have given them all a bad reputation.

Blake gasps and falls back. He can't believe his eyes as Coffee changes. He-- "A-Avon?"

Avon opens his eyes, and lets his hands drop to his lap for modesty. Pity he can't wear clothes as a cat. "Yes." He gives Blake a rueful smile. "I'm sorry I missed dinner. I was... unavoidably detained." _Now, let's see what the reaction will be..._

Blake blinks. He's amazed, then suddenly, angry. "It was you. It was _you._ "

"Yes." Avon meets Blake's eyes and then looks down. "I am what I am, Blake."

"You lied to me. You tricked me!"

Avon spreads his hands. "I... I didn't mean to. I was... hungry."

"I told you things! I--I trusted you." Blake shakes his head. "Get out. GET OUT!"

Avon gets to his feet. He tries, just once, in a soft voice, to explain, "I wasn't going to use anything you said against you."

"That doesn't make it better! Get out."

Avon looks at Blake once more. His eyes are bright. With anger, Avon hopes. He turns and starts for the door. It isn't the first time he's been kicked out. He knows better than to prolong the misery. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"You never do." 

Avon winces at the reminder of Gauda Prime. "I'll go if you want me to, but I'd rather stay." It's not easy admitting even that much. Avon knows it's not enough. People want so much more than that.

"I don't care what you do. Just stay away from me!"

He has to know. "Do you want me to leave the base as well?"

"Why would I want that?"

Avon shrugs. "I'm not entirely human. In my experience, discovery is swiftly followed by expulsion."

"Avon, I don't care if you're green with poisonous spikes, I need your expertise. Now get out and leave me alone!"

"All right." Avon opens the door and walks out into the hallway, totally nude. He certainly isn't going to ask to borrow a robe. "Good night, Blake."

Blake slams the door shut behind him.

Avon walks back to his room as a man. He'd rather be seen naked than changing. No one stops him. He hadn't paid much attention, being distracted by thought, so doesn't know if anyone saw him. He looks around the bare room, locks the door, removes a vent panel and changes again. Blake only wants him for his skills. Very well. After he clears out the vermin and gets all the computers up to specification, he can leave. The sooner, the better. Blake was his last hope of being accepted here, now there's just the job to do.

He is in a mood for killing. Out of spite, Avon takes the carcasses to the vent in the kitchen and piles the bodies up just inside the door, so the cooking staff will step on them. By the time he's worn out enough to sleep there are dozens of mice, and three large, evil-looking rats in the heap. Avon finds a relatively clean area in the vents near the computer center. The quiet hum of the machinery puts him to sleep.

 

There's a lump in Blake's throat, and he's not entirely sure there isn't something wrong with his heart. He should have known better. If you play with cats, you'll get scratched. It's their nature. Even if they sometimes walk on two legs.

Finally Blake exhausts himself and goes to bed. His sleep is uneasy. The next morning, Blake is too tired to get out of bed. So he doesn't.

 

Avon wakes when he hears people moving around. He returns to his room, changes, showers, dresses, and goes to work. He doesn't even bother with coffee. To hell with it. Why give them another chance to spit in it? There's a water cooler in the computer room.

Deva comes into the computer room. "Have you talked to Blake this morning?"

Avon glances up from his work. "No. Why, has he got another computer project lined up?"

"I can't find him. I even knocked on his door, but there was no answer. And I thought.... well..." Deva blushes.

"You'd better get someone to check on him, then. But not me." Avon fiddles with the laser probe. "He kicked me out of his room last night."

"I heard. Avon, I've tried to get into his room, but I can't. He could be hurt."

Avon tenses. Blake hadn't been depressed, surely. Disappointed and angry, that's all. But... why would he refuse to answer Deva? "All right. I'll take care of it." He puts down the laser probe.

"Blake..." Deva wrings his hands and asks, softly, "Blake hasn't been doing very well, has he?"

"No. Excuse me." Avon needs a quiet place in a room with a vent. Fortunately the vents aren't designed to resist a cat pushing from the inside, so once he's in the system, he'll be able to get to Blake. Avon goes to his room, thinking it best to leave his clothes there, and works his way along til he gets to Blake's room. He pushes the vent out with a clatter, and steps into the room, sneezing out dust in short, sharp bursts. He's relieved to see Blake in bed, apparently unharmed.

"Go away. Leave me alone," Blake says, barely bothering to open his eyes.

Avon changes back. "Deva sent me. He's concerned." Avon steps closer. "If you're ill, I'll call a medic."

Blake closes his eyes and turns away. "I'm just tired." Tired of everything; Avon playing cat and mouse with Blake is only the last straw.

"Will you call Deva on the comm and let him know you're all right?" Avon moves a little closer.

He shakes his head. "Tell him yourself."

"I can't. I never was any good at lying."

"What do you want? I thought I made it clear that I wanted you to leave me alone."

Avon tilts his head to one side. "Leaving you alone doesn't appear to have made you feel any better." He moves closer to Blake. "I didn't mean to trick you. I just... wanted to be close to you."

"I trusted you. And you took advantage of it."

"Yes. But not to hurt you." Avon edges a little closer. "We were both happy, weren't we?"

"Does it matter what you intentions were? You hurt me, Avon. You always hurt me."

Avon kneels at the side of the bed beside Blake. He says softly,"You hurt me, too. I can't live like this much longer, Blake."

"Then we're even."

"You really do hate me, don't you? I never quite believed it."

"I don't hate you. I'm just tired of hurting."

"You don't have to hurt." Avon gives in to impulse and kisses Blake. He doesn't know why he held back for so long. 

Blake thinks he might want this. He has wanted to be close to Avon, has held Avon in his arms in battle and had fleeting fantasies. But he could never imagine how Avon would react, so he hadn't tried. He kisses back. Will this be better? He hopes so. Blake breaks the kiss and confesses, "I'm tired all the time. I've tried to get my energy up, but I can't."

Avon is concerned. "You should let the medic see you." He runs the back of his hand down Blake's cheek. "Perhaps a vitamin solution might help?" Avon doesn't like to think that Blake might actually be ill.

Blake shrugs. "Perhaps." But he really thinks it's nothing to do with his diet. He thinks he just needs... real sleep. And the last time he got it was... "Will you turn into Coffee?"

"All right." Avon moves back slightly and changes, watching Blake warily to make sure he wasn't distressed by seeing the metamorphosis up close. Blake picks him up and cuddles him, like a beloved toy. Avon purrs and rubs his cheek against Blake. Blake's shoulders shake and he buries his face against Avon's belly fur. They sit like that for a long time.

 

Deva gets tired of waiting. He rounds up a gang of strong people and they break down the door. Blake cries out in surprise. Avon squeaks as Blake squeezes him hard. He concentrates on staying feline.

"What the hell is going on here?" Blake says. He doesn't wipe at his face. If his eyes are red, let them think what they like. Maybe he's allergic to fur.

Deva looks relieved. "I was worried about you."

"I'm fine. Now please, leave."

Deva rakes his hair out of his eyes. "Where's Avon? He said he'd..." Deva blushes. "Well..."

Avon washes his left front paw, nonchalantly. _So, you do have an imagination. Will wonders never cease?_

"I sent him away." Blake rests his hand on Coffee's back. "Does that bother you, him and me?"

"Well, it does, a bit. I keep worrying that one of you will kill the other." Deva looks around at the floor and lower walls, as if checking for blood. "You didn't send him away... permanently?"

Avon washes his other paw, spreading his toes to chew on a ragged nail. Rats have tough skin.

"No, I didn't send him away permanently. Can we talk about this later?"

"Yes, yes. Of course." Deva gives Avon a puzzled look, gathers his brute force, and turns to leave.

"Deva." 

"Yes?" Deva turns back to face Blake expectantly.

Avon twitches an ear and wonders why Blake doesn't just let Deva go.

Blake says softly, "Thank you."

Deva smiles. "We all care about you, Roj. Rest well." He looks at Avon again. "And your furry new friend, too."

Avon yawns at Deva.

 

Blake waits until Deva and the others are gone. "Ready for a nap, pretty kitty?"

Avon slits his eyes and purrs. If Blake can only accept him as a pet, then so be it.

"Thank you, too, Avon," Blake says in a softer tone.

Avon licks Blake's cheek and head butts Blake. He doesn't know cat language. He won't know that's the way they say 'I love you'.

Blake hugs him. "Don't ever leave me."

 _No. Never._ To hell with the computers. No one has ever liked him as a man. Perhaps he should just stay Blake's pet. After all, this skin is as much his as the human. Is the ability to open doors really all that valuable? Someone will always let him in and out. The needs of a cat are so much simpler and easier to obtain, and being honest with himself, Avon was a social disaster as a man.

Blake sighs. "We should try to have dinner again today." He settles back into bed, holding Coffee close. "Wake me when it's time."

 

Blake wakes up all on his own and glances at the time-- late-- never trust a cat to be an alarm clock. He says, sleepily, "Avon?"

Avon flops over onto his back and purrs. Blake is warm. The bed is comfortable. Why get up?

"Mmm, we should dig up something to eat."

 _Tuna would be nice._ Avon begins lazily washing his face.

"Are you going to change back?" Blake frowns. There's something different about the cat, but he can't quite lay his finger on it. It seems... smaller, somehow.

Avon licks his right paw thoroughly and chews between his toes. _Perhaps some cream, too._

"Avon, don't ignore me. Change back."

Avon yawns and stretches, and sniffs Blake's fingers.

Is this a new game. Or... "What's wrong? Can't you do it?" Blake doesn't know much about shifters, but of course he's heard the stories about wolf shifters remaining animal even when they were hunted, turning back only after death. Avon hadn't seemed to have a problem choosing the change earlier.

Avon hops off the bed and goes to stare at the stasis box. There might be something good in there.

Blake jumps out of bed. What if Avon's stuck? He rushes over and grabs Avon. "I'll get you to the medic."

Avon squirms. He's hungry! Why are they leaving the foodbox? He mews a plaintive complaint.

"Avon, you need to change back. Will you please do that for me?"

Why is Blake holding him so tightly? Avon mews again, nervous, not quite frightened, but getting there. Blake is big and his voice is loud.

"Avon, _please._ " The look in Avon's eyes is wild.

Avon squirms, trying to kick his way free. Blake is scaring him.

"Stop it, Avon." Blake strokes him. "Shhh, shhhh."

Avon kicks once more and then relaxes, but keeps a wary eye on Blake. Is he going to be kicked or have things thrown at him?

Blake is trembling violently. If he tells the medic, they'd think he was crazy, no one knew Avon was a shifter. He'd probably destroyed any records. And really, what could they do?

Avon mews softly. What did he do wrong?

Blake sets him down and sits at his desk. He feels sick to his stomach. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Panic won't help.

Avon scuttles under the bed and turns around to peer out from under it. Is everything all right, now? Blake is quiet so Avon crawls out and goes over to him, hopping onto his lap and purring. Blake needs comforting. He's upset about something.

_Are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?_

Avon puts his paws on Blake's chest and licks his chin. His person is sad.

Blake shakes his head, moving it out of the cat's reach. "Why won't you talk to me? I thought..." Blake sighs. "Let's feed you. I'm sure you're hungry."

Doesn't his person like him any more? Should he bring more mice? Avon is very confused.

Blake put the cat on the desk, with an opened can of tuna, and then goes to take a shower. He's heart-sick and can't stand to look at the cat.

After he licks the dish clean, Avon goes into the room with the sound of water, and watches curiously as Blake willingly gets wet all over.

Blake finishes showering; even that tires him, but he has to be strong. He steps out and sees Avon, the cat, Coffee...the cat, purring and chasing his tail. "Yes, very nice." Blake walks back into the bedroom and dresses.

Avon follows, puzzled. He mews softly.

Blake hears him mewl. He wants to pick him up, but he hardens his heart. Maybe if he doesn't give the cat what it wants, it will stop being a cat. "I'd really like to spend time with you, Coffee, but I'm afraid I don't have much time. Since Avon isn't coming back, _I'll_ have to do all the computer work." Somewhere inside that narrow skull, Avon must still be there, listening.

Avon steals a sock and pretends to kill it, with lots of fake growling noises.

Blake gets another pair of socks and finishes dressing. Then he walks out, but he leaves the door open so that Avon can get out.

Disappointed, Avon drops the sock and follows Blake, trying to rub up against his ankles. _Play?_

"Sorry, but no. I'm busy. Why don't you bother Deva."

Avon sits down in the middle of the corridor, even more confused. He wails.

Blake ignores him.

A rebel coming down the corridor with an armload of supplies kicks Avon without seeing him. Avon squalls and runs away, hurt and frightened.

Blake hears the cry of pain. "A- Coffee!" He turns. "Coffee!" 

There are so many people, so many legs and feet! He has to find someplace to hide. But all the doors are shut... no! Blake's place. He dives in and hides under the bed, trembling and licking his sore leg.

Blake sees Avon dart into his room. He hurries in and closes the door behind him. "Avon? Avon, come out. Where are you, Avon?" Avon mews without coming out from the bed. Blake sits down on the floor next to the bed. "Did you get hurt, sweetheart?" Avon mutters in cat, complaining bitterly. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you come out here and let me check you out." 

Avon creeps out from the bed, feeling very sorry for himself and letting his tail drag through dust and cobwebs.

"I know, I'm very sorry that you got hurt. But I'm here now, sweetheart." Blake runs his hands lightly over the cat's body and limbs. He's relieved when there are no cries of pain or flinches, but at the same time, he's even more worried. A tumble from the desk had made Avon shift before, shouldn't something that actually upset him have brought Avon out? "Come here." Blake gently lifts him up and holds him close. Even if he's only a cat, now and forever, Blake cares about him.

Avon cuddles against Blake and gives a brief, half-hearted purr. He hurts and he's confused. Does Blake love him or not?

"Yes, I know, I'm here now. I'm sorry I ignored you earlier. I love you, I do, but I miss Avon. Human Avon."

Avon almost understands. He reaches out tentatively to touch Blake's mouth with his nose.

"Can you understand me? I need Avon. Human Avon. I need both of you." Blake feels a stirring of hope as the cat's eyes narrow in an expression very like a human concentrating. There's even a little furrow between his eyes, like Avon faced with a difficult problem.

It isn't easy, but Avon closes his eyes and remembers his other life. He changes.

"Avon!" Blake hugs him tightly. "What happened?"

"I... I got stuck. Avon rubs his sore leg and tries to think. "I made a mistake."

"One hell of a mistake." Blake kisses him, relieved and grateful to have Avon, annoying, exasperating, _human_ Avon, back. Avon closes his eyes and returns the kiss. It deepens and Blake takes advantage of Avon's nakedness to caress his body. It's not at all like stroking a cat even though Avon arches his back and presses into his touch.

Blake slides down onto his back and pulls Avon on top of him. Avon gasps and squirms sideways so his erection isn't pressed against Blake's belly and he's half on Blake, half on the hard floor. "Wouldn't this be more comfortable on the bed?" Avon is all for what Blake obviously has in mind, but there's no need to add serious bruises to the experience.

"Probably." Blake kisses his neck. "I'm just worried that if I let you go, you'll turn back into Coffee."

"I didn't think you wanted me this way." 

"Why would you think that?"

Avon scowls. "When I kissed you before, you asked for the cat."

"I needed comfort, not sex. And, well, I was still upset with you."

"Ah." Avon tilts his head. "Am I forgiven?"

"I'm still hurt, but I think I'll be able to manage it." Avon is an idiot, but he's Blake's idiot.

"Thank you." Avon lays his head on Blake's chest. "If you still need comfort, I can do that, too. I can't purr, though."

"I'd like that." Blake slides a hand down to fondle Avon's crotch. "I'd also like to take care of that for you."

Avon smiles without lifting his head. "I would appreciate that." 

Blake takes a firm grip of Avon's cock and strokes him. "How's that, sweetheart?"

"Just right." Avon moans and kisses Blake's chest. 

"I'm glad you think so."

Avon can't resist saying, "You rub me the right way." In retaliation for the pun, Blake rubs the tip of Avon's cock with his thumb and gives a squeeze around the head. Avon moans and stiffens, thrusting into Blake's hand. "Ahh! Yes!"

Blake growls, in a soft, deep voice, "What a pretty kitty. Yes, you are, even if your shape is human, you're still a kitty. My kitty."

"Yes! Just... don't stop!" Avon restrains himself from biting Blake, barely. "Please!"

"I want to make my kitty purr. Purr for me."

Avon moans and thrusts faster into Blake's fist. "Please!"

"Come for me, Avon. Come now!"

Avon yowls sharply and comes, at the last moment pulling his head back so his teeth meet with a click in empty air rather than in Blake's flesh.

Blake smiles with satisfaction. He didn't come, but he felt stirrings he hasn't felt in a long time. He feels confident that the next time won't be a one-sided affair. Not that he minded this in the least. He licks his hand clean and tries to wiggle out from under Avon's limp weight. Avon wakes up enough to change. "Thank you." Blake deposits Coffee on the bed and crawls in with him.

Avon purrs and curls up in the hollow of Blake's shoulder. He could get used to this. Blake is very warm and Avon is tired of being cold.


End file.
